


Vintage

by Karthur



Category: Suikoden, Suikoden IV
Genre: F/M, taking broad liberties with character histories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 05:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5035447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karthur/pseuds/Karthur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elenor was always particular about her wine...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vintage

**Author's Note:**

> Howl requested a 15-minute fic about Elenor & Cray.

Elenor has always been particular about her wine.

The one she pours for herself tonight is a rare vintage, with many songs and stories laced within each sip. It is a bottle from years ago, one that she had once shared with someone else. Someone that she once cared for when her eyes were brighter and her hair untouched by gray.

The night she first opened this particular vintage, it was just to celebrate her student’s success. A raised glass, a tiny clink, and then a sip through a sincere smile. Words were spoken over the wine. Words that fermented into more than pleasantries between a young teacher and her student.

The aroma is strong, fruity, with a must of oak behind it. The smell conjures memories of the second time she uncorked this magnificent vintage. She relishes it for a moment; the earthen scent the same as it was back then, beckoning her to blur the lines of decorum and to give in to her desires.

She moves her lips to the mouth of the glass, but then draws back, giving the wine a moment to breathe. Just as he had given her all those years ago. A smell, a touch, a tease… It was nervousness hidden in a shroud of playful, for both of them. When she finally does taste the wine, it is soft, like that tender yet eager first kiss.

The rest of the bottle goes quickly; glass after glass, memory after memory, touch after touch. The finish of each taste giving her mischievous bites just as he used to do, because they both liked things exciting, rough, and intoxicating.

Elenor rolls the cork in her calloused palm, remembering just how soft his weathered hands felt on her arms, her back, her legs. But when she commanded it, those same hands could be strong and challenge her. As she downs the last drop, she feels the heat of the alcohol cause her cheeks to warm and turn red, burning with that flushed glow coupled with heavy, contented breaths.

Without regret, she silently motions for Agnes to bring her another bottle.


End file.
